


Doctor I Can't Tell If I'm Not Me

by FormlessMonkeys



Category: Super Robot Monkey Team Hyperforce Go!
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, kind of an AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:15:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22856092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FormlessMonkeys/pseuds/FormlessMonkeys
Summary: Skelemandarin and Antauri have a conversation.Partially venting through two characters.
Relationships: Mandarin/Antauri
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Doctor I Can't Tell If I'm Not Me

The formless monkey sat in a hyperforce standardized holding cell. He was thinking. He'd been doing that a lot more lately, now that the three biggest traumatic events in his life, and possibly the  _ only _ big events in his life were over. 

The worm. Valeena. The war. 

His mind could finally focus on something other than survival. Which was honestly terrible. Why couldn't he be mindless like the other formless? Then he wouldn't have to think about all the terrible questions about his existence. Why would Skeleton King make him if he already had Mandarin? Why would he use a formless clone if they were already proven to be  _ worse _ than the original? Why would he give him all the memories of rebellion and freedom and love… only for it to be fake? Skeleton King was a cruel ruler. But who was Mandarin? Or… Skelemandarin, as Otto so cleverly named him. 

The formless looked at his left hand. At least, what was left of it. The stump had been sliced and rehealed more times that he could count in the worm alone. Force of both habit and programming made him raise his arm as if he still had his shield as the creatures festering in the neon flashing insides of the worm attacked him. Enough that it could no longer grow back into a proper hand, but a large, inconvenient, but deadly claw. One better at blocking insectoid mandibles and slashing open pus-filled sacs in the walls for the simple sense of satisfaction and entertainment. 

He'd been cauterizing it on the electric bars of his cell to keep it from coming back. The only reason he was kept behind them in the first place is his habit of finding dark crevasses and hiding there, needing to be coaxed out with a broom.

One of the many reasons he could no longer be considered Mandarin. 

A door opened and closed outside of his vision. He didn't need to check who it was. His fake memories of spending his formative years living with the team gave him a good idea of their walking patterns… and the fact that Antauri was the only monkey with metal feet made these things obvious. 

The smell of food made him feel sick. Yet ravenous. He'll probably vomit up most of what Antauri gives him. Not only does the smell of food make him feel sick, so does the smell of Antauri.

Because it wasn't Antauri. It was The Silver Monkey. The failed experiment.  _ Not _ the monkey that he trusted and lo-

Oh. Wait. Those feelings were part of his programming. Then what  _ did _ he feel about the monkey next to him? Or to be more precise. 

The robot.

He looked up to the piercing blue eyes staring at him. Then immediately looked away. The blue in his eyes was the exact neon shade of blue that occasionally flashed through the worm. Not only that, but he could see a warped reflection of himself in the chrome. He could feel his fur involuntarily puffing up.

"I apologize. I forgot to change that." Antauri said. He tapped the side of his cheek, and the displays of his eyes dimmed a few shades. A little easier to look at. He hated being so fragile that the color of someone's eyes could strike fear into his heart. If he even had one, that is. Stars, being what he is is confusing.

"It's alright." He said, turning over a gelatinous cube of something likely stuffed to the brim with vitamins and nutrients he's been deficient in since his creation. 

Now his least favorite part of meal time. Actually eating. The team wants him to ‘improve in health’ even if he doesn't believe he can. That means they have to make him eat.

They've never force-fed him, but Antauri is  _ very _ good at staring him down.

He took a bite off of the corner. 

A slow bite. Both for his own need to pace himself and to make this as annoying for Antauri as possible.

But why? Antauri has near infinite patience and can seem to read people better than they can. Did his 'programming' give him that need, or was it from him?

Of course, Antauri had programming, too. Actual programming. Rules that he had to follow, and laws he finds loopholes around every day. 

It suddenly occurred to the formless monkey that Antauri could probably relate to the problem he's having. Not just give him some canned advice and nod 'understandingly'. Actually understand. He gives in to the hands of a set of memories buried deep even by the original Mandarin. Seeking comfort from his second in command.

"Antauri?"

"Yes?"

"Do you… I-" He sighed, and tried "Are we…"

"Ask me whatever you like. Don't worry about the phrasing."

"You see the parallels between us, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"We both take commands. We both are servants turned odd. The same but… but different. I don't know how to describe it."

"There are a lot of similarities between mechanical life and formless.

"Between robots and undead shapeshifters"

"I sense there's more to it than that."

"How do you know that you are.. You?"

"I feel that my soul is who I was before, so I am confident I am me.”

“Are you, though? Surely you have memories of a before and after and… It’s different.”

“It is different. But the difference is in my body, not my mind.”

“Like you’ve been transplanted from one place to another?”

“Like driving a different ship.”

“Okay, but hear me out,” He knew Antauri would see the connection and allusion immediately, but he kept talking. “What if someone did some necromancy, or whatever, and brought your old body back?”

“I’m assuming he’d be as I was before,”

“Yes.”

“Well, then the question of who I am would be both metaphorically and physically staring me in the face. I’m lucky enough that I don’t have to think about it."

"What's more important to a soul? The experiences or some intrinsic thing built into it?"

"I'd say it's a combination of both. Experiences can change a person all the way to their core, and that core seems to be the closest thing to a soul we can imagine."

"Do I deserve to call myself 'Mandarin'?"

"Only if you feel it's right."

"I don't. I do. But I don't know who I am other than him. I barely know  _ what _ I am. I don't want to be Mandarin because he's already here!"

"If we may return to the robot and formless comparison…"

"Yes?"

"Jinmay had her purpose chosen by Skeleton King. She had no idea who she was beyond that. A new purpose came after she chose one, and had enough experience to say she's someone off-model."

"I'm more off model than a circle in a square factory. And I have experience in spades."

"But is that enough for you?"

"It should be, but it’s not. I’m supposed to be someone else. I have feelings from someone else, and I don’t know how to get rid of them.”

“Perhaps you should act as if they were your own, and when you figure out what  _ you  _ think, you can change your opinion.”

“That would be highly inconvenient.”

“How so?”

“I love you.”

That caught Antauri off-guard. He had to do a double take just to check that he was tuning into the correct reality. “What?”

“That was one of my base values. When I was created, it was decided that  _ loving you _ was something so integral to being Mandarin that it couldn’t be left out. Under the obsession with vengeance, the fear of staying still, the need for control… He still loved you.” He turned to the silver monkey, “and I’m stuck with that. I can’t get rid of the base values. It’s like removing the laws of robotics from your system. Don’t tell him you heard that from me, though. He’d break my spine.”

“You don’t have a spine.”

“Neither do you, chrome-dome.”

“We don’t have traditional bones. That is a comparison I wasn’t expecting.”

“What we have works,”

“And that is the best we can hope for.”

A beat of silence passed, an enjoyable one. Skelemandarin took another bite of cube.

“How long do you think formless live for?”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t spent any time with a formless person other than you.”

“Formless person. I like that. Well, on the off chance it’s long… If you’re ever, y’know.  _ Alone. _ My base programming loves you.”

“I’m glad you’re thinking that far ahead. That’s progress.”

“Too bad I can’t think a few minutes in the future. I don’t know if I’ll finish my meal.”

“I’ll let you get away with just one cube.”

“Oh, I thought you loved cleaning up my vomit.”

“And I thought you loved nutrient cubes. We’re discovering so much today.”

Skelemandarin took another bite and smiled. It would take more than one conversation to work out all his troubles, but he knew that he could. He knew that he was in safe hands, and there was a chance he might even get to go outside someday. He wouldn’t even be running from something. There was a chance his hand might even grow back. But he still needed a name. A purpose. And a pair of sunglasses. Everything was still so bright. Everything was too much.

He didn’t need to deal with everything. He needed to deal with a square shaped food. 

He supposed he could handle that.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after my fish died. I had a b r e a k d o w n. I finished it up and gave it an ending today.


End file.
